


Our Daily Bread

by dietplainlite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben is a born again virgin, Church Sex, Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fellatio, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Opposites Attract, Religion, Reylo - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Virgin Rey (Star Wars), background finnrose - Freeform, don't worry this is not dark fic, evangelism, irreverent take on christianity, mention of child neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-02-27 13:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: A girl just needs to eat, even if that means enduring a sermon in exchange for a hot meal at the Baptist Collegiate Ministry. Too bad she catches the eye of Ben Solo, a devout assistant minister who's determined to save her soul.This fic is a fill for theReylo Gifts Project, based onthis art promptfrom bazineapologistThe draft is not complete yet but I have quite a bit complete, so it should update regularly





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BazineApologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazineApologist/gifts).



> Needless to say, this story is not going to provide a flattering look at the Baptist church. I was raised Baptist, so the portrayal is based on my personal experiences, and I understand ymmv. My goal is to keep it lighthearted where possible, but I can't promise the devout won't find it offensive, so take heed.

For two weeks after transferring to Chandrila State from Jakku Junior College, Rey Niima regrets that she didn’t buy a meal plan. The campus is in a much more affluent area than Jakku, and she suspects there must be some local ordinance against fast food, because there isn’t a dollar menu in sight for miles. She ekes by like she always has, until a fellow starving art student sees her in the lounge eating a sad peanut butter sandwich and lets her in on all the campus organizations who host free lunches during the week. 

On Mondays, the Students for Compassionate Cuisine host a lunch on the quad. It varies in quality, from plain lentils and rice to Impossible burger feasts, but it’s food, and where Rey gets the bulk of her fruit and veg consumption each week. 

Tuesdays are at the Wesley Foundation. Usually they have sub sandwiches and chips in the rec room, though she’s heard that they have a catered turkey and dressing meal before Winter Break. The vibe is casual, and no one’s tried to convert her yet. (She can’t say the same for the vegans, but at least they’ve been nice about it.)

It’s back to meatless on Wednesdays, when The Buddhist group hosts Meditation and Munchies. There’s a lot of overlap with the vegans, but much less pressure. 

The Catholic Student Center hosts on Thursdays, but she skips that to meet up with Finn in the student union. It’s her favorite day, being the one day a week she’s eating somewhere she chooses to be, with someone she wants to eat with. The fact that Finn has a full meal plan with flex dollars as part of his scholarship is a bonus, and he overloads his tray to share with her. They see each other less frequently now than before she transferred, so it’s fun to have an hour to catch up. 

Her schedule is rocked a bit in October, when the MBA students run into funding issues and have to cut back to once a month for their Paninis and Pitches event. The only other option for Fridays is the Baptist Collegiate Ministry, which Rey has been avoiding. The food is supposed to be great, but it comes with a sermon and prayer. While she’s fine sitting through a series of future capitalists practicing pitches for their startups, she’d almost rather go hungry than listen to some earnest college minister’s Jesus pitch. 

Religion is a tricky subject. Her mother dabbled in a form of Wicca that, as far as Rey could tell, was mostly about aesthetics and personal freedom, meaning it gave her an excuse to get fucked up all the time and neglect her daughter. Rey knows that’s not what it’s supposed to be, and kept a few of the practices out of habit, but between her mom, and being forced to go to “real” church by various foster parents, overt religion leaves a bad taste in her mouth. She can stomach it when people are chill about it, but Baptists can’t seem to be chill about anything. 

She hopes for a miracle all week, but Friday morning, after waking up late and skipping breakfast, and with nothing back at her dorm but a sleeve of stale crackers, she’s willing to endure the sermon in exchange for a hot meal. 

As she walks past the science building, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirrored windows and wishes she’d planned her outfit a bit more carefully. In a long black dress that buttons all the way up the front--a relic of her mother’s along with the Doc Martens--she straight up looks like a witch. She tucks her moon pendant into her dress and heads toward the BCM building. 

Her first impression: the Baptists have major money. This isn’t a converted house like the Wesley; it was built expressly for the purpose of ministry, almost like a mini church. She walks through the high-ceiling lobby into the  main hall, which is set up like the cafetorium at her high school, with a food service line at one end and a stage with a pulpit at the other. She wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a baptistry behind the blue curtains hanging at the back of the stage. 

Second impression: everyone here definitely thinks she’s a witch. 

There are a lot of double takes followed by overly friendly smiles. A ton of whispering. A blonde girl in a Northface vest comes up immediately, introduces herself as Rachel, and leads Rey to the food line. In the time it takes to get their food, Rachel invites her to Wednesday Bible study, tells Rey all about a mission trip she’s going on for Thanksgiving break, and introduces her to four other blonde girls with Biblical names, and a redhead named McKenna. 

Rey feels bad for being put off by what most normal people would consider a friendly overture, but when she’s around people like this, she never feels like they truly want to get to know her as she is, but rather to convince her to become like them. Frankly, it creeps her out. 

She sits at a front table with Rachel and her friends, and after a student leads them in blessing the meal,  they chatter mostly among themselves, leaving Rey to look around the room. There are a few other obvious freeloaders--artists and theatre students--at a table nearer the back, by the food. She decides to catch them after and ask if she can sit with them next time, if there is a next time.

She finishes her food before the other girls, and is about to see if she can sneak out before the sermon, when the music starts and the pastor bounds on stage. 

He’s nothing like she imagined, tall and ginger, with a handsome face, obviously making an effort to dress like one of the kids, his blazer worn over a t shirt and skinny jeans. She doesn’t recognize the band name on the shirt but assumes it’s a Christian version of some popular secular band. 

The guy assisting him, however, is closer to what she pictured. Also tall, he’s got dark hair and rimless glasses, and is dressed in a way that, if he lived in New York, would have been considered Normcore. Here, though, the khakis, blue dress shirt and--good Lord--white Asics trainers scream “youth minister.” He’s anywhere from twenty to thirty, with a full mouth and long face and nose. She can’t decide if he’s good looking or not, only that she’s got the kind of face that would be interesting to draw. 

“That’s Brother Hux,” Rachel whispers. “He’s only been here since last spring, but he’s made some cool changes.”

Rey is about to ask who the other guy is, but Brother Hux begins his sermon. 

The service doesn’t contain as much hellfire and brimstone as Rey expected. It’s more about making “good” choices, in a “What would Jesus do?” kind of way. 

“And remember,” Brother Hux says in closing, “the coming weeks, leading up to Halloween, are some of the worst in terms of temptation, but they provide some of the greatest opportunities we have in reaching out to people who need Christ the most. Let us pray.”

Rey wonders how many of these students will commit to saving souls while also getting as smashed as possible at as many Halloween parties as possible.  

With all the other head in the room bowed--including the other freeloaders--Rey takes the opportunity to look around the room. She freezes when she locks eyes with the pastor’s assistant. He looks down, quickly, and she does the same, murmuring, “Amen” with everyone else when the prayer ends. 

The moment the prayer is over, she stands, takes care of her tray and bolts out the door, ignoring Rachel calling her name. 

The food was good, especially the chocolate cake, but she’s definitely going to have to find another plan for Fridays. She’s so slammed over the next week with work and school projects, however, that she doesn’t have time to think about it, other than trying and failing to sketch that guy’s face from memory. The only thing she’s sure she gets right is the way the tips of his ears poke out of his hair. 

Despite her best efforts to save money, when Friday rolls around again she’s out of food and has 78 cents in her bank account, due to running out of three different shades of paint that she needs for an assignment due on Monday. Dejectedly, she heads to the BCM after class. At least she’s dressed more appropriately this time around. There are paint splatters on her jeans, and the cuffs of her flannel shirt are beyond fashionably worn, but at least she won’t look like she rode in on a broomstick. 

She waits near the door for the theatre and art students to arrive, and they invite her to sit with them before she can even ask. 

“We would have rescued you last week,” a theatre student named Doph says, “But Rachel and her crew got to you too fast.”

It’s so much easier to enjoy her chicken nuggets surrounded by people who don’t want to save her soul. Everyone is respectful, of course, but for the most part it feels like they could be at the student union or on the quad. During the sermon, she has an argument on paper with Doph about whether or not Brother Hux is hot. 

_ What about the other one? _ He writes, after accepting that the pastor is not her type. 

She watches as the assistant gets up to lead the prayer. His voice is low, and a bit nasal, as though he has allergies, but oddly pleasant. Just like, she decides at that moment, his face. She picks up the pencil. 

_??? _

_ Mood _ . Doph replies

After the prayer, she gets sidetracked talking to Doph about set painting, allowing “the other one” to come over to them.  Doph raises his eyebrows and leaves her, throwing a smirk over his shoulder as he follows his friends out the door. 

“I’m Ben,” the assistant says. “I noticed you here last week but I didn’t see you after the service. I wanted to invite you to the late service at my church on Sunday mornings. It starts at eleven, and we have lunch and fellowship after. It’s totally casual.”

It shouldn’t annoy her that everyone here assumes she doesn’t have a home church, since it’s true, but the assumption rankles anyway, because it’s based solely on her appearance. As always, though, the idea of a free meal is tempting, and at least he didn’t call it a blue jean service. She might have died of secondhand embarrassment. 

“Is there a worship band?” she asks. Late morning services always have a pseudo rock band rather than a piano or orchestra. She prefers choral music. 

“Sort of. It’s an acoustic service, more of a jam session, because people can bring their own instruments if they want. Do you play?”

“Not really. Which church?”

“First Order, out on 55.”

“Six Flags Over Jesus?” It’s an insanely huge megachurch outside of town, on a campus at least the size of the university, complete with a sports complex and an amphitheatre. She wouldn’t be surprised if it has its own restaurants and police station. 

His ears go red and he nods. “That’s what some people call it, yes.”

“I’m sorry. That’s...yeah that’s what everyone calls it so it slipped out.”

“It’s fine. Some of our members call it that ironically.”

Rey is hard pressed to believe that anyone who understands irony would attend that church, but she keeps her mouth shut this time. 

“We have a transport service if you need a ride,” he continues. 

Of course they do.

“I’ll think about it,” she says. “If you’ll do me a favor.”

“What do you need?” The sincerity of his response is endearing. 

“I’ve gotten some negative feedback on some of my portraits, so I need to practice. No one has time to sit, and I’m tired of using stock photos because they aren’t as challenging as a life model.”

HIs blush travels from his ears to his cheeks as he swallows. “Um, I’m not sure--”

“Oh, God, no, just your face. My anatomy is great. I mean. Fuck. Okay, nevermind. I’ve got to get to class.” 

She practically runs to the Fine Arts building, where she collapses against her locker. Right. She definitely needs to find a new plan for Friday lunch. Her roommate Rose has a stash of energy bars and protein shakes that companies send her to review on her YouTube channel. Rose never does, because she doesn’t believe in “the work until you drop” culture pushed by so many tech companies, but she never throws them out. They’re generally nasty, but if eating them means not having to go back to the BCM, she’s fine with it. 

That afternoon, Rey throws herself into her school work and her shift at the campus bookstore, but her encounter with Ben nags at her. She really had been weird and rude, and he was only trying to be nice. Before she goes to bed, she gets on the First Order Baptist website and finds the staff directory, scrolling through the photos until she finds him. Ben Solo, Campus Ministry Assistant Coordinator. His hair is much shorter in the photo, and he’s smiling like he just won the lottery. His dimples are like parentheses. Luckily, there’s an email address listed, so she takes a deep breath and starts composing. 

_ Ben, _

_ I feel like I need to apologize for this afternoon. As you can probably tell, I’m not really used to being in a church environment, and I do have a bit of a potty mouth. It’s something my professors have commented on and I’ve been working on the whole “time and place for everything” thing. _

_ I don’t think that church is the right thing for me now, but thank you for the invitation. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Rey Niima _

 

She doesn’t expect a reply right away, since it’s so late, but apparently he checks his work email from home, or his phone, because she gets a reply ten minutes later.

 

_ Miss Niima, _

_ There’s no need to apologize, though I appreciate it. I want you to know that our doors are always open to you, whether you feel like it’s the right place for you or not. There’s a form on the website where you can sign up for transport. The deadline is 5pm on Saturday each week. I hope you’ll consider it. You are also welcome to continue coming to Friday lunch at the BCM.  _

_ Yours in Christ, _

_ Ben Solo _

_ PS If you’d like to meet for coffee sometime, you can sketch me while we talk. My cell number is in my signature.  _

  
  


  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Rey lets Ben’s reply sit for the weekend, perplexed by the postscript. Is he asking her out? Is he even the type of person who would ask someone out from their work email, or by email at all? Most importantly, does she want him to be asking her out?

She’s no closer to deciding what to do by Monday after school, so she shows the email to Rose. 

“I think he just wants to tell you all about his Lord and savior. From what you said about him he’s probably totally oblivious to the romantic implications.”

“You think?” 

“Oh yeah,” Rose says. She’s in the middle of editing a video, and other than glancing at the email, she hasn’t looked up from the screen. “He’s being pretty smart about things, other than that. You won’t come to church, so he’s willing to  meet you where you’re at. He may not want to kiss you but he’s definitely going to ask if you’ve heard the Good News.”

“That’s only if I go.”

She turns around in her chair. “Oh, you’re totally going. You’re curious, or you wouldn’t have emailed him to begin with.”

“I emailed to apologize for being rude.” 

“And how often do you track people down to apologize for being rude?”

Rey has no comeback for that, so she does the most mature thing she can think of, which is sticking her tongue out at Rose.

“Charming,” she says. “Anyway if he has one of those little Bibles, snag one for me. I’m running low on blotting paper.”

She goes back to editing her video, but she does throw a smirk at Rey when she picks up her phone and starts writing a text. 

Ben agrees to meet her at the Porg’s Nest later that afternoon. It’s an old school train car style diner, and one of Rey’s favorite places to sit and sketch, because she can get a bottomless cup of coffee for $2 and the light is good. 

He’s already there when she arrives, sitting in the corner booth; her usual one, actually. It gives her a view of the entire diner, with her back securely against the wall. Ben is facing that wall, his back to her, so she can observe him as she approaches. 

His hair is damp at the ends, and he’s wearing a grey long sleeved t shirt. It’s plain, but the way it stretches over his back and shoulders reveals how fit he is in a way his button down shirts don’t. 

He smiles when she slides into the opposite seat. “You found it.”

“This place was my idea?”

“I know, it was an attempt at a joke.”

“Oh.” 

“Well, this is going well,” he says, running his hand through his hair.

“About that,” she says. “By ‘this’ do you mean a date?”

“No!” 

Rey raises her eyebrows and sits back. “Right, sorry.”

“I don’t mean that it would be a bad thing. It just wasn’t my intention.” He leans forward, hands on the table. “Did you think it was a date?”

“I wasn’t sure. I probably should have asked that before we made plans.”

“Thinking back on my email, I should have been more clear. But we’re on the same page now.”  

He shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes, and for a second she does wish it was a date. She picks up her menu to hide her burning cheeks and pretends to study it, though she knows what she’s going to get. However, when she only orders coffee, Ben insists on getting her a piece of pie.

“I invited you,” he says. “I’ll pay, even if it’s not a date.”

She orders apple with ice cream and he gets coconut cream. After they hand the menus back, he surprises her by pulling out his own sketchbook and pencil. 

“You draw?” she asks. 

“It’s what I was originally going to go to school for, in Rhode Island.”

“Rhode Island. As in RISD?”

He ducks his head and opens his sketchbook. “Brown,” he mumbles.

“Holy sh- crap. Why didn’t you go?”

The pencil looks miniscule in his hands as he starts working, and she wonders if it’s difficult for him, or if he’s just used to it. For some reason, she remembers those big pencils they used in kindergarten and smiles at the idea of him sketching with one. 

“I didn’t get a scholarship,” he says, finally. “I didn’t qualify for financial aid, either. My parents could just swing tuition but they wanted me to work part time to help out. I got in a fight with my father about it. I really just wanted to wait until the second semester, to get used to the course load, but he said I was spoiled and had never had to make any sacrifices. I was stubborn and stupid so I took it as a challenge and joined the Air Force.”

That story did not end how Rey expected. She’d imagined he’d had a religious epiphany after partying too hard the summer before, or something like that.

“You joined the military because you didn’t want to wait tables part time?”

“Like I said, I was stubborn and stupid.”

“Were you deployed?”

“Yes. And when I got home, things got...bad for while and school seemed pointless.” He looks at her briefly, then makes several long strokes with his pencil. 

“How did you end up in ministry?”

He continues sketching silently, so she picks up her pencil and starts doodling the daisy in the bud vase on the table. Simple, mindless, something she can do in her sleep. 

“I don’t remember how,” he says, “but I ended up at church one Sunday with someone from my support group, and for the first time in a long time, things started to make sense again.”

“Just like that?”

“No. But it was the first time in years I felt like things would ever get better.”

Their pie comes, and Rey dives into hers before the ice cream can get too melty.   

“Were you raised in a church?” she asks. 

He laughs. “My father is an atheist and my mother is a non practicing Jew.”

“That makes you Jewish too, though, right?”

“Depends on who you ask,” he says, shrugging.  “It doesn’t really matter, though.”

Rey has a feeling that it does, but he obviously knows more about religion--and himself--than she does, so she lets it drop and finishes her pie. She’s staring out the window at a little boy stomping in puddles when he asks if she was raised in church.

“Not really,” she says, absently. “But I lost my virginity at church camp.”

Rey has never seen anyone actually do a spit take, but he comes close, having taken a drink of coffee right as she answered. 

“Excuse me?” he chokes out.

“Bad joke. Sorry. My mother was Wiccan, or at least claimed to be, so of course she never took me. I sometimes light candles or play around with crystals. For some reason, foster parents tend to be churchgoers, so I’ve been to church, and church camp, but never long enough at one place to feel like I belonged, and I’ve never felt anything like you felt in a church.”

“Do you feel like you’ve developed a relationship with God outside of church?”

And like that, the mood goes from a friendly conversation to feeling like a sales pitch. He’s looking at her so earnestly, brows furrowed just enough to convey mild concern. 

“Can we not do this?” she asks. 

“Do what?”

“I’ve been to Sunday school enough to know where this is leading. We start with John 3:16 and Romans 3:23. Maybe get into some scary stuff from Revelations if I seem reluctant. You tell me about your personal relationship with Jesus Christ and that all I have to do is ask and believe and I’ll have my place in heaven. I was pressured into getting saved at a revival once, but it didn’t feel real and I backed out of being baptised.”

She still remembers the look of disappointment on her foster mother’s face when she said she wasn’t going through with it. She’d asked if Rey was ashamed to stand in front of the congregation, told her that she would never be able to spread the word if she couldn’t even tell the church she was saved. 

It had ended with Rey yelling that she hadn’t meant it to begin with and being sent to her room. By the end of the month she’d been placed with a new family. 

Ben is looking at her expectantly, but she shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He looks down, lips pressed together. “God loves you so much, Rey. He doesn’t want you to be lost forever.”

“Ben, seriously, please don’t worry about my soul.”

“I have to.”

“Okay, well, we’re finished with pie and I’ve been doodling, so if you want to contemplate my eternity while I draw your face, you should get another cup of coffee.”

“I have another appointment to get to.”

He’s not looking at her, but she doesn’t think he’s lying. It’s likely he’s in no danger of being late for his appointment, however.

“Well, hopefully they’ll be more amenable to witnessing.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“I know it’s not a joke, that’s why I don’t want to talk about it.”

He stands up and lays some bills down on the table for the tip. “I’ll see you around, Rey.”

She watches as he lopes to the counter to pay, and as he walks out the door. He’s left part of his pie crust on his plate, with a thin sliver of custard still clinging to it. She pops it in her mouth, and as she’s chewing, notices he’s left his sketchbook on the table. She opens it to the most recent drawing. 

It’s of her, in a moment when she was looking out the window. He’s rendered her profile gracefully, in a few lines that are so much more delicate than she could have imagined, coming from those hands. 

Who is this guy, really? She flips through the rest of the book. Other than the one of her, the drawings are all object studies, everything from pulpit flowers to the fountain at the school’s main entrance. They’re extremely good. They’d have to be, she supposes, to get into an Ivy league school. It makes her sad, that he’s not using his skill. What was he like, before he found Jesus, before he went to war?

Rey has done some impulsive things in her life, like running away at fifteen to follow the Modal Nodes on tour, or quitting jobs when customers pissed her off, but she can’t imagine joining the military to spite someone. She can’t reconcile that person with the mild mannered--if intense--man who sat across from her. 

She slips the sketchbook into her bag and starts making her way home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the lovely comments on the first chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small content warning: this chapter contains a discussion about incest in the context of art and the Bible

**Hi Rey. Did I leave my sketch book at the diner?**

 

yes! I was going to text you but I got sidetracked 

i’ll drop it off at the bcm on friday if you want

 

**I’m right off campus now if you can meet me**

  
  


**But I can wait it’s no big deal**

 

it’s fine i need to get some fresh air anyway

i’ve been working on a paper all day

 

**Do you need help?**

 

you don’t even know what subject it is

  
  


it’s art history

 

but no i’ve got it i’m just being nitpicky

 

anyway yeah where do you want to meet?

  
  


**I’m at CrossFire.**

 

that xtian coffee house place?

 

**Yes.**

 

omw just need to change out of these pentagram pjs

 

come on you know that was funny

 

k see you there

 

CrossFire is in the heart of downtown, between a vintage shop and a record store. Rey has never been inside until now, though she’s passed it hundreds of times on her way to other places. She scans the room and spots Ben right away, sitting at a table near the stage, where a young woman is setting up an amp next to a  mic and stool. 

He stands when he sees her coming over. He’s in his church clothes again, though this time the shirt is lavender, and he’s wearing a tie. It’s not a bad tie, actually, a subtle grey on navy plaid tied in a neat half Windsor. 

“Do you want coffee?” he asks. There’s a carafe on the table, an extra mug, and a basket full of cream and sugar. 

Rey hesitates. She’d really wanted to give him the sketchbook and go. The vibe here is so weird, like it’s a coffee shop set on a sitcom and all the customers are extras. Even if she didn’t know this was a Christian coffee shop, she would have figured it out by that vibe, just like how a Christian song is instantly recognizable before you even hear the lyrics. She has a feeling they’re about to get treated to some Christian music, open mic style. 

The coffee smells amazing, though, and her paper is driving her crazy, and he’s somewhat cute tonight even in triple pleated slacks, so she sits down and slides the sketchbook over. He doesn’t ask if she looked at it, so she doesn’t volunteer the information. 

“Is this your regular hangout?” she asks. 

“I come here after church on Wednesdays. There’s open mic, and a few of our congregants are regulars.”

“You don’t participate?”

“My talents definitely lie elsewhere,” he says, nodding at the sketchbook.

“Do you always come alone?” 

He shrugs. “Usually, yeah. How’s your day been?”

“Other than the paper, fine. Oh! A baby puts its hand in my mouth today.”

“What?”

“I was hanging out with my roommate, Rose, doing laundry at her sister’s house. Her sister has this baby and she’s so cute but at one point I was holding her and she like, put her hand in my mouth. It tasted like salt and dirt and cookies. It was so gross.”

He cringes. “Babies in general are pretty gross.”

“Oh my God, thank you! No one will ever just admit it, and they look at me like I’m a monster.”

‘Don’t get me wrong,” he says. “They can be cute, and they’re miracles, but they’re definitely disgusting.”

‘I guess some of them are cute. Not when they’re tiny though. They look like larvae.” She shudders, making him laugh. It should  not feel so great to make him laugh, but it does. She was beginning to think he either lacks a sense of humor, or that he thinks she’s completely unfunny (and crazy.)

“Rey,” he says, getting serious again. “The other day, you said that you light candles and do things with crystals. What’s that about?”

“Is this a trap?” she says. He really is an expert when it comes to sinking a mood. 

“I’m genuinely curious.”

Rey doubts that, but if he gets too pushy she’ll either change the subject, or leave. 

“Well, like I said, my mother was Wiccan, but was pretty spotty in her practice, I think. The Wiccans and other witches I’ve met since have been different from her and her friends. Like, incredibly different. But she did light candles every morning, as a way of setting an intention, and I would join her. It became a habit, but after I was taken away, I was never in a foster home where I was allowed to do it. When I was on my own and could do whatever I wanted, I picked it up again, mostly as a way to remember her.”

“And by ‘set intentions,’ you mean…”

“I suppose it’s similar to prayer, in a way, letting a higher power know your desire.”

He cringes again and she rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. You don’t seriously believe that yours is the only way to pray?”

“I believe with all my heart that there’s one God, and that we’ve found the one true path to salvation.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky? Out of billions of people over hundreds of thousands of years, you’ve stumbled on the one true path. And don’t you dare tell me the world is only 5000 years old.”

“Of course it’s not. I’m not stupid. But yes, we’re fortunate, which is why we need to spread the word to as many people as we can.”

Rey tears open three packets of sugar at once to put in her coffee. It doesn’t taste as good as it smells. “So, is that why you hang out in Christian coffee shops and play in Christian sports leagues and listen to Christian bands? Really getting out there with the people?”

“I didn’t meet you in  secular space,” he points out.

“True.” She takes a sip of coffee. It’s passable now. “But anyway, the candles and crystals are more about my  mom than religious beliefs. And even if I was seriously into it, it’s not like devil worship or something.”

“Well…”

Rey waves her hand. “You guys believe everything is devil worship.”

“Look,” he says, leaning forward, his eyes intense behind his glasses. “The term ‘devil worship’ is old fashioned and inaccurate. I don’t believe you, or most people, are consciously seeking to literally worship Satan, but you’re choosing to separate yourself from Christ, which is Satan’s goal, so obviously I’m distrustful of practices that help you do that.”

“Hmm. Well, on that note I really do have to get back to my school work. If you ever want to talk about art, or real music, or anything else, let me know.” She gets up and slinger her bag on her shoulder. 

“Do you want to go to the art museum? I have a membership.”

This stops her. The local art museum isn’t big, but it’s got a fantastic collection. Unfortunately, they don’t have pay-what-you-can days or a student discount, so Rey has only been there a few times. There’s an exhibit of Maz Kanata’s early works there now, and she’s been dying to see it.

“When?” she asks. 

“I’m free Saturday morning. I know it’s Halloween, but we could go early.”

“I’ve got nothing going on until five, so sure.”

They agree to meet when the museum opens at ten, and Rey manages to get out the door right as the first performer, a mousy girl with a guitar, takes the stage. 

* * *

 

On Friday, Finn’s physics class is cancelled so he takes her out to lunch. 

“So, was it a date?” he asks as he loads two servings of chocolate pudding onto his tray.

“The thing with Ben Solo? Not remotely.”

“Rose said you saw him again.”

“Only to return his sketchbook,” Rey says, though she can’t quite look her friend in the face. 

“Mmmhmmm.”

At this, she does look at him. “What?”

They find a table with a decent view of the quad and Finn starts dividing up the food. “Haven’t you ever intentionally left something at someone’s house so that you’d have an excuse to see them again?”

“People do that?” 

“Yeah sure. Yeah some people do that. I never have, obviously, but I’ve heard that’s a thing some people do.”

Rey considers. Ben hadn’t even messaged her about the sketchbook for several days, and he seems way beyond playing coy. If he’d wanted to see her, he would have asked, like he did with the art museum. 

“I don’t think that was it. The conversation got awkward and he left in a hurry. I think it was an honest mistake.”

“Sure,” Finn nods.

“Finn, I do think he’s cute in a really weird way, but it would never work out, and I honestly think he’s only interested in meeting his quota for saved souls. The month’s almost over, after all.”

“Whatever you say, Rey.” He perks up. “Speaking of the end of the month…”

“Nope,” Rey shakes her head. “I am not going to those parties with you guys. And don’t pout at me, it doesn’t work.  First, I’d be a third wheel. Secondly, I’d really rather babysit for Paige and Kaydel and pass out candy.”

Rey doesn’t hate Halloween, exactly. She just doesn’t have the best memories associated with it, between her mom’s weird antics and some outright terrible experiences in foster homes. There were families who didn’t believe in celebrating, which was fine with Rey as long as she wasn’t the one who had to answer the door and give disappointed children religious tracts. She preferred when the family simply left the porch light off and went about their usual routine. 

There was one family who made her wear hand me down costumes from a bin they had in the basement. The clothes smelled like damp and neglect, but she managed to cobble together a convincing lady pirate costume. She’d been so proud, but her foster parents seemed inexplicably angry over it and made her stay home with the candy bowl rather than go out trick or treating. As soon as they left, she turned off the porch light and emptied the candy bowl into her sock drawer. 

Because of all that, she loved the idea of spending the evening in a warm, clean, loving home. It would be like playing house, even if she never wants her own baby.

“Suit yourself,” Finn says. “We’ll probably stop by so Rose can take a billion pictures of Lily in her costume.”

Rey busies herself with eating so she doesn’t have to talk. She hasn’t told Rose or Finn that she’s going to the museum with Ben on Saturday morning, and now she plans to keep it that way. She’ll never hear the end of it, otherwise. 

* * *

 

Ben shows up to the museum looking a lot like he did at the diner, in another long sleeved shirt and jeans. She doesn’t know for sure, but if she had to guess, she’d say the jeans are Levi’s 550s. During her brief stint in retail in high school, Rey learned the type of guys who were drawn to certain cuts. Dads, teachers, and ministers love 550s. He would look amazing in a pair of 511 slim fits, but would probably never think to try a pair on. But, at least he doesn’t wear his phone clipped to his belt. 

“Where should we go first?” he asks, after he’s secured badges for them. 

The museum is basically a large square, with four wings enclosing a courtyard sculpture garden. Visitors can flow through the galleries in order, ending up back at the beginning, but there are plenty of doors leading out to the garden, so you can skip around at will. 

Rey is drawn to the medieval and Renaissance works initially. The subject matter doesn’t interest her, but the color and technique are fascinating. 

“I can never get over the blues and reds in these,” she says, looking at a Madonna and child. “But my favorite part is how all the baby Jesi look like little grown men.”

The last time she came here, with Rose, they laughed so hard over all those grown babies, but she doesn’t tell Ben.

“Jesi?” Ben asks, bemused.

“Is it Jesuses? I don’t know. Does Jesus even have a plural?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that they believed that Jesus was fully formed from birth.”

“What?”

“The homunculus theory. It literally means ‘little man.’ They believed Jesus was perfectly formed from birth, so that’s how they depicted him, then they started depicting all babies that way.”

“Whoa,” Rey says. “You’re telling me that medieval people believed that Jesus was born looking like a little grown man, and just got bigger as he got older?”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s terrifying and fascinating, and I’m a little pissed that I somehow never learned that in my art history classes.”

He shrugs. “It’s a combination of my interests, so it stuck with me. But I feel like that’d be kind of important to go over in class, because it’s an illustration of how little medieval artists cared about realism.”

It was such a good idea to come here with him. He’s so much more interesting when he talks about art than when he talks about Jesus, even when he’s talking about artwork of Jesus. 

“Well, speaking of realism, let’s take a look at some Dutch masters.” She hurries him on, before he can focus on just Jesus again. 

“What’s your favorite thing about these?” he asks once they’re in the gallery.

“I like to stand as close as possible. The cracks in the paint are the only thing that ruins the illusion.”

The museum isn’t fancy enough to have a Rembrandt or Vermeer, but they do have a van Leyden engraving, depicting Lot’s daughters plying him with wine. 

Rey studies it with academic interest, and Ben stands beside her. She’s surprised he’s able to look so neutral, considering the subject. She figured he’d be blushing and stuttering over it.

“This is one of the weirdest stories in the Bible,” she says. “I always thought it was weird that they would flee a wicked city, only to do one of the most wicked things imaginable once they were safe.”

“It wasn’t considered wicked, then.” 

“Are you serious? Full on incest wasn’t a sin?”

“The laws about incest came later than this.”

“Huh. You’d think that would be a no brainer.” She looks at the engraving, more closely, at how gorgeously rendered the nude forms are. “You know what? I hate how every piece I’ve seen on this subject is borderline erotic.  It’s like they wanted an excuse to paint sexy things so they chose Bible stories.”

Rose would probably say that it’s proof all men secretly want to fuck their daughters, but Ben just nods and says, “Maybe so.”

She moves on to a painting of a vase of riotous flowers. She loves this one, because the flowers are at the point right before they’re overblown, the vase overflowing so that stems droop to the table below. She leans in as far as she dares and takes a photo of a single water droplet on a ranunculus.

“Ranunculus rhymes with homunculus,” she says. She files that way for posting later, a photo of a man-Jesus alongside the pink flower. 

They skip the impressionists in favor of the Kanata exhibit. Rey loves impressionism,so much so that she’s not ready to find out if Ben, like a lot of artists, considers it overrated. She doubts he’s that particular brand of pretentious, but she’s been surprised by people before, and she’d rather enjoy her morning without having to defend a harmless thing she likes. 

“You never mentioned what your focus is, in school,” Ben says as they walk across the courtyard. The grass is still wet and the leaf fall from the night before hasn’t been raked, so the toes of Rey’s shoes are getting soaked. 

‘’I haven’t decided, to be honest. I didn’t get to do much other than draw and do collage up until high school, because I could always find a paper and pencil or old magazines. I’ve been enjoying getting to try everything, but they really want me to decide by the end of the semester. Jewelry making is surprisingly cool. I’ve been working with wire and cable. I had no idea how many colors you can find until I went to the e-cycling place. My roommate loves my stuff and said she’d plug it on her YouTube channel if I ever decide to sell it. She has a tech channel. Well, she has two. One of them is tech and she does let’s plays on the other. I think she also has a secret ASMR one but I haven’t been able to prove it yet.”

“Let’s plays are where you watch someone play a video game, right?”

“Yeah. I know it sounds dumb but it can be relaxing, and sometimes you just want to see the story instead of having to play.” 

He smiles. “I’m not knocking it, I’m just old and out of touch.”

“How old are you, by the way?”

“I’ll be thirty next  month.”

Thirty is a bit older than she’d guessed. Despite his solemn demeanor and the dad clothes, he looks much younger.

“That’s not super old, really. It seems ancient to college students, but in the grand scheme of things it’s not.”

“I keep telling myself that.”

“I turned twenty in July, if you’re wondering.”

“Oh,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning down. 

The one and very brief time that Rey had been on Tinder, she set her preferred age range to 25 maximum. She didn’t trust men older than that who would want to date a 19 year old. She still doesn’t know if Ben wants to date her, but she’s fairly sure he’s more interested in her soul than her vagina, and that the former would need to be in good standing with God before he would consider getting near the latter. 

He opens the door and they step into the temporary collections wing. The Kanata sculptures are lined up down the center of the gallery, all replicas of the diminutive artist, in different mediums, colors, and sizes.  When asked why she only sculpted herself, Kanata had stated that black women are expected to shrink into the background, to not demand attention, to take what was given, and she refused. She would celebrate herself if no one else did. 

“This one’s my favorite,” Rey says, standing in front of a larger one, a concrete armature covered in silk and paper butterflies. 

“It’s nearly life sized,” Ben says.

“I heard she’s tiny.”

“She is.”

Rey turns to him. “Have you met her?”

“My dad knows her. Knew her. Whatever.”

Ben gets a look on his face when he talks about his father, a sad, reluctant look, as though it hurts, but he doesn’t want to face that hurt. She has an urge to put her hand on his arm and tell him it’ll be okay, but she’s not sure it would be the truth, since she doesn't know what’s wrong, or if anything is really wrong. Instead, she turns back to the sculpture and takes a photo, focusing on the lens of Maz’s spectacles. 

They walk the rest of the gallery in silence, Rey taking detail shots occasionally. When they reach the end, he tells her he has to leave. 

“I’ve got to help with Harvest Festival setup. I can drop you at your dorm if you want.”

“I think I’ll stick around. Maybe look at the Impressionists.”

He smiles wide enough to show his dimples. “I thought you wanted to skip them because you hated them.” 

“I skipped them because I was afraid you might hate them.”

“I suppose that’s a lesson in why we shouldn’t make assumptions.”

“Probably,” she laughs.

“Anyway, yeah, stay as long as you want.”

“I have to babysit for a friend tonight, so I can’t stay too long. It’s the baby I was telling you about, who put her hand in my mouth.”

“That little monster.”

She smiles and, on a whim, stands on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. It’s barely a brush of her lips, but his ears turn crimson.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, then blushes more deeply. “I don’t know why I said that. See you later.”

He ducks out the door, shoulders hunched and hands shoved in his pockets, and Rey is left wondering why her face is burning as hot as his must be. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going out of town tomorrow (5/21) and though I'll be back on Sunday, next week's update may be delayed a day or two. ♥️♥️♥️


	4. Chapter 4

Paige and Kaydel’s house is situated near campus, on a two block long side street lined with Craftsman cottages that used to be faculty housing. Rey stops at the end of the street, taking it in. It’s like a street from a movie, with the trees in peak fall colors arching overhead, the neat little houses, and a few early trick or treaters out in costume with their coffee-carrying, fleece-clad parents.

On the bus ride over, and on the walk from the bus stop, all afternoon in fact, Rey has been thinking about the kiss.  It was only a kiss on the cheek, but Rey has never been the type to impulsively kiss people, on the cheek or elsewhere. There’s something about him that makes her want to throw caution to the wind, though. It’s funny how girls are always warned about bad boys, when good boys like Ben Solo may be the most dangerous of all.

She shakes her head and starts off again.

The house is toward the middle of the first block, clad in slate grey cedar shakes and boasting a wide front porch with blocky white pillars. They’ve decorated since the last time she was here, and the front is done up like the cover of Real Simple, with a cascade of pumpkins on the front steps and a tasteful wreath made from silk autumn leaves on the door. It’s a surprise, considering how the couple’s interior design runs toward eclectic kitsch.

Paige comes out on the porch with the baby, catching Rey examining a particularly perfect white pumpkin.

“I figured you’d at least paint one of them gold, or add some glitter,” Rey says.

“It’s our first holiday in the neighborhood, and we’re trying out being grownups. And we won’t have to change much for Thanksgiving.”

“How’s the adulting working out?”

“We’re already planning the gaudiest nativity you’ve ever seen, complete with a retinue of multicultural gay Santas, aren’t we?” That last is directed at Lily, who laughs and tugs on her mother’s braid.

“Please, call me if you need help,” Rey says. She steps onto the porch and holds out her arms for Lily. The baby laughs and smiles an unusually drooly grin as Paige hands her over.

“She’s teething, as you can see,” Paige says. “You’ve handled that before, right?”

“A few times,” she says to Lily, smoothing down the tuft of dark hair on her crown.

Rey spent a lot of time as the default babysitter for her mother’s friends when they went out, even when she was barely old enough to change a diaper. She was nine the first time she dealt with a teething baby, and she was frightened because the baby started running a fever, and Rey couldn’t get ahold of any of the grownups. After searching for solutions online, she dug up a bottle of baby Tylenol in the back of a drawer, and the child was sleeping peacefully by the time they stumbled in the door.

That had been a few months before Rey was taken away for good.

“Rey?” Paige asks. “Are you okay? You looked really sad all of a sudden.”

Rey smiles and kisses Lily’s forehead. “I’m fine; school is just stressful.”

“Hopefully you can get some work finished after the trick or treating dies down. Come on in. You’re going to die when you see Lily’s costume.

Lily’s costume is a tiny Pikachu, and while Rey doesn’t die over it, it is one of the cutest things she’s ever seen. Paige and Kaydel are dressed as Pokemon trainers.

“No surprise, we’re running late,” Kaydel says. “We were going to take her to a couple of houses, but mostly just to show her off since she’s too young to remember. Or eat candy. Do you mind waiting a bit?”

“Of course not.”

Rey watches from the porch as the little family goes to the door of a few neighbors. They stop to let some other children fawn over Lily, and Rey takes a family photo when they get back.   

Kaydel hugs Rey on their way out. “Thank you so much for doing this, Rey. I know it’s a big night when you’re in school, but it’s probably the last Halloween that won’t revolve around Lily, and we wanted to leave her with someone we trust.”

“It’s no problem, and I hate parties anyway. Now, go have fun!”

Three hours later, the candy bowl is empty, Rey has eaten the Snickers and M&Ms she squirrelled away at the beginning of the night, and Lily is tucked in upstairs. Finn and Rose had stopped by between parties, just in time to get some photos of Lily before bathtime. They tried again to convince her to meet them after Paige and Kaydel got home, but she resisted.

She sets up the baby monitor on the coffee table and spreads her books out on the floor. She never had a desk growing up, and the one in her room now serves as more of a catch all than a work surface. She prefers the floor, even though it’s probably terrible for her back. She says a little prayer of thanks when her laptop manages to boot up again, and for about half an hour, she stays in the zone and makes a huge dent in her research.

When she gets up to stretch and check her phone--she keeps it across the room when she’s working--she’s got several drunk texts from Rose, one from Kaydel saying they’ll be a bit late, and one from Ben Solo.

She saves that one for last and sits on the sofa, twisting her hair around her finger and staring at the phone. It’s not really a big deal, what it says. It’s the fact that he sent it at all that’s worrisome.

**How are things? Is the baby keeping her limbs to herself?**

 

very much so though she did sneeze in my face so i expect to die of galloping consumption

how's the “harvest festival?”

 

**Why did you put that in quotes?**

 

because we both know it's just halloween by a different name

 

**It was great, we’re just winding down now.**

 

This is where, if they were in high school, or he wasn’t a nearly thirty year old minister, she might tell him to come over and hang out. It might be interesting to find out what he would say if she did ask him to come over, but she’s afraid he might take her up on it. She can admit to herself that she’s attracted to him, though it’s mostly physical, or more, the anticipation of the physical, of what’s underneath those clothes, what’s behind the glasses.

There’s also a small part of her that wonders if she’s really attracted to him, or if she sees him as a challenge, something to be corrupted.

Either way, being alone with him in private is not a good idea, no matter how chaste he likely is. The best case scenario is a messy and awkward complication of an already weird relationship, whether he accepted her advances or not. Plus, there are several things she needs to know about him and his beliefs before she gets too comfortable thinking he’s actually a good person.

 

great! good night!

 

**Would you like to get some food when you’re done?**

**Sorry I sent that right before I got your text.**

 

it’s fine i’m just tired

 

**Ok. Lunch on Monday?**

 

are you asking me on a date?

 

**Do you want it to be a date?**

 

i’m not sure

 

**Ok then, it’s just lunch. 11 at the Porg's Nest?**

 

ok see you then

* * *

 

It’s raining when she gets out of class on Monday, a hard, fat dropped downpour that reduces visibility to a few feet and turns the quad into a soppy mess. Fortunately, Rey actually looked at the weather forecast before leaving her room, and is equipped with a rain jacket and boots. Unfortunately, the rain is so heavy that she’s still rather damp by the time she gets to the bus shelter, and even more so after walking the two blocks from the bus stop to the Porg’s Nest. Inside, she takes her jacket off and shakes it over the mat as she scans the restaurant.

Ben is in the same spot as last time, looking as pristine as if he’d just been taken out of a box.

“I could have picked you up,” he says when he sees her.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“But I should have thought to text you when it started raining.”

“I said, don’t worry about it. I am going to run to the restroom, though.”

“You want coffee?” he asks.

“I think I’ll go with hot cocoa today.”

She stares at herself in the mirror as she dries off her arms and face with paper towels and throws her wet hair into a loose braid. She had been worried, before she came, because of how they’d skirted around outright flirting with their text messages. Today, though, everything seems friendly and normal, as if asking someone, “Do you want it to be a date?” is a totally innocent question. Perhaps it was for him.

The hot chocolate is waiting for her when she gets out of the restroom.

“I didn’t know if you wanted whipped cream, so I had them put it on the side.”

“Thank you,” she says. “And yes, I love whipped cream.” She spoons a big glob on top and wraps her hands around the mug gratefully. “I was just telling Paige and Kay the other night how it didn’t really feel like fall yet, and here we are.”

“Paige and Kaydel?”

“Lily’s parents, the baby I was watching the other night. Paige is my roommate’s sister and Kay is her wife.”

“So, the baby is adopted?” he says, suddenly very interested in stirring his coffee.

“Not exactly. Paige carried Lily, and Kay’s brother was the sperm donor. Kay did have to do a formal adoption, though.”

Ben looks up, eyebrows raised, and Rey laughs. “It spun me for a loop, too, but apparently it’s pretty common? This way they both have a biological tie to the baby, and she looks like she could be their child.”

“Won’t it be weird when her brother has children.”

“I don’t think so, but Kaydel told me he doesn’t want them anyway.”

He sits back and looks out the window, looking deep in thought, and Rey’s stomach drops. Kaydel and Paige’s family situation is so normal to her that she forgets sometimes that other people may have a problem with it.

And First Order Baptist is not known for being one of those progressive, welcoming churches.

“You think it’s wrong, don’t you? That they have a baby.”

He looks at her sharply. “I didn’t say that.”

“You think pretty loudly.”

He looks away again, squirming in his seat. “I don’t...I don’t know,” he says. He wraps both hands around his coffee cup, engulfing it. His hair hangs in his face as he looks down.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“It’s...complicated.”

“It shouldn’t be, though,” she presses. “Don’t you know how you feel?”

“I know how I feel, I just…” he looks up shaking the hair out of his face. “It’s just that I haven’t been able to reconcile how I feel with what Pastor Snoke says.”

Rey leans toward him. “Ben, don’t you think that’s a sign that something’s wrong?”

“Yes. Something wrong with my faith.”

“But isn’t loving people, and not thinking their love is a sin, more a sign of faith that God knows what he’s doing than condemning people is?”

“I don’t know, Rey. I don’t...I’m not condemning anyone. Can we drop it?”

“No we can’t, Ben, because this is important, because how you feel about this affects whether or not I can continue to be your friend.”

“Do your friends have to agree with you on everything?” His cheeks have gone red, though Rey suspects it’s more out of frustration than embarrassment.

“Of course not, but this isn’t disagreeing about a sports team or--or mint chocolate ice cream.”

Their voices have risen enough that other diners are looking over at their table, so she ducks down and lowers her voice. “I’ll drop it for now, if you’ll answer one question.”

“What?”

Rey takes a deep breath. “Are you really interested in being my friend, or just in saving my soul?”

“I’d want to help you whether you were my friend or not.”

“I don’t need that kind of help,” she says. “And that doesn’t even answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Okay, how about this. If I told you that I don’t ever want to talk about Jesus dying for me, or being born again, or even look at a Bible ever again, would you accept that?”

“Are you saying you can only be my friend if I hide who I am?”

Rey wants to scream, she’s so frustrated, but she persists. “No! But you don’t have to pressure me. You have to let people make their own decisions, in their own time. Unles you’re saying that who you are is someone who won’t take no for an answer.”

His face falls and he looks away. “That’s pretty low, Rey.”

“That’s not what I mean. I just...between your feelings about my friends’ life being ‘complicated,’ and this weird weaponized Christian love, I think we’d be kidding ourselves if we tried to be friends.”

“Weaponized love?” he says. “What does that even mean?”

“It’s that whole thing where you guys bombard people with this supposed love for humanity and all of God’s children but as much as you try to claim otherwise, it’s absolutely conditional. It’s a tool to get people to do what you want, and they second they don’t, it turns to disappointment and guilt trips.” Her chest is tight and her eyes are stinging, but she pushes it back, refusing to cry in front of him.”

“You want to talk about conditional?” he says. His eyes have gone hard. “Would you have met me here that first time if you weren’t sure you’d get a meal out of it?”

She sits back, staring at him, and the panic in his eyes tells her he knows he’s gone too far. She swallows back the tears again and lets out a shaky breath. “I was only going to get coffee until you insisted on paying. Do you have any idea what it’s like to not know when you’ll get to eat again?”

He closes his eyes and swallows hard. “No.”

“Right, because even at your lowest moment, you had a family who loved you to help you through it. So yes, sometimes I go places for free lunch even though I’m not interested in what’s going on. But I don’t hang out with people solely for that reason. My roommate and my best friend don’t even know how bad things really are for me. This was a bad idea. All of it. I’m sorry I wasted your time and money.”

She stands up and puts her jacket on, flinging drops of water onto the table, into the rapidly melting whipped cream, onto his glasses.

“Rey, I’m sorry.”

“Accepted,” she says. “Goodbye.”

He doesn’t follow her as she flees, and she lets the tears fall when she’s back out in the rain.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Rey gets to the door of the Fine Arts building before turning around and going back to her room. She can’t do it. If they were doing something tactile like sculpture, or even oil, or acrylics, she’d be fine, but they’re doing watercolor, and her piece requires a delicacy and precision she’s not capable of at the moment. She wants to splatter paint on the wall, or apply it in big globs and slash through them with her palette knife, or squeeze the life out of some clay. 

Instead, she trudges to her room, emails her professor and gets in bed, turning on some music. Rose got her into vaporwave, saying it helps with studying, but Rey uses it to relax. 

She reaches under her pillow for the smooth piece of moonstone she keeps there. It’s cool in her hand, fitting perfectly in her palm, and she rubs it with her thumb as she thinks. 

It’s hard to get her mind off the argument with Ben, but she does calm down enough to think about it more objectively. That spark she sees in him, of a good person who chose the wrong outlet for that good, is there; she doesn’t think she’s wrong about that. The question is whether he’ll find the right outlet, or if he’ll bury that part of him in order to stop the war inside.

Another question is, should she stick around long enough to find out the answer?

Her whole life, people have cautioned her about caring too much, whether about a stray cat or the kid no one wanted to play with on the playground. They told her that people would take advantage of her soft heart, and everyone is out for themselves. That there’s a reason some people are broken or rejected, and they’ll try to drag her down with them. 

This always translated, to her, as meaning there was a reason she was rejected, and she would drag people down as well. 

She drifts as the rain lulls, and then stops, leaving the light outside a watery, yellowish grey as the sun starts to set. She’s thinking about getting up to find dinner when there’s a knock on the door.

She drags herself out of bed to answer it and finds Ben standing in the hallway with a sheepish look, carrying a plastic grocery bag.

“How did you get up here?” she asks. The RAs at the front desk are usually pretty strict about letting guests upstairs unaccompanied. 

“I’m technically clergy.”

“And they just gave you my room number?”

“When you put it like that, I can see they may be a little bit too trusting.”

“Just a little,” Rey says. “What’s in the bag?”

“Oh! You didn’t get to eat lunch because I was a jerk.” He holds his arm out, the bag dangling from his wrist, a mea culpa with “Thank You!” repeating down the front. 

“I provoked you,” she says. His arm is still outstretched awkwardly so she takes the bag.

“No, you made some good points, and I got defensive instead of listening. Look, do you want to go down to the common room?”

“Ew, no. It smells like bologna down there. Just come in.” He hesitates and she rolls her eyes. “We’ll leave the door open if it makes you feel better. And we even have two chairs.

The room isn’t tidy by any means, but at least there aren’t any bras hanging around to dry. Not that she would be embarrassed; she’s afraid Ben might die on the spot. Looking at artistic nude paintings in a museum is one thing, but a real woman’s bra might be too much for him. 

As it is, he moves his chair so it’s in full view of the door before he sits. Rey had been mostly kidding about leaving the door open, but leaves it open anyway. She sits at the desk to look through the bag he brought. There’s a turkey sandwich, bag of chips, a can of Coke, an apple, an orange, and a banana. Her eyes well up, so she keeps her back to him. 

“Thank you,” she says. 

“No, thank you, Rey.”

“For what?” She still can’t look at him and she knows it’s weird but she feels so stupid for crying over food. 

He takes a deep breath and exhales. “There’s like, I guess you’d say an imperative we’re given, to bring as many people to Christ as we can--and I’m not trying to do that now just trying to explain--but there’s this urgency surrounding it, because someone could die at any moment, or the Rapture could come. And sometimes, yes, I tend to see people as...not exactly a number, but not totally as an individual. So, thank you for calling me out on that.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.”

“And I’m sorry. It was horrible of me to accuse you of using me for food. And even if you had, it’s my job to understand, and to help. Not to judge.”

Rey turns to him, though she’s not confident her eyes will stay dry. 

“I have felt judged pretty much constantly since we met, and I need you to understand something,” she says. “I may have overcome a lot to be here, but I barely made it. I’m barely making it. I’m not one of those inspirational stories they tell people to illustrate that anyone can succeed if they try hard enough. I had the bare minimum GPA for admittance to junior college, and no extracurriculars other than art club. If it wasn’t for somehow pulling off a decent ACT score, I probably wouldn’t have gotten in. Then, when I decided to transfer, more than one person said I was foolish for majoring in art instead of something more practical. I almost let them persuade me until Finn told me that art was the most practical thing for me. 

“I don’t have a scholarship. I have loans, and a grant, and a discount on my dorm room, and I don’t have a meal plan. I work sixteen hours a week at the campus bookstore because that’s all they’ll give me and it’s all I can handle and stay afloat with my school work.”

Rey sits back in her chair, rolling the orange up and down her thigh absently. She’s starving, but she’s not sure this is the kind of discussion you have while eating. 

“I’m sorry it’s been so hard,” he says. His own eyes are shiny and his chin a bit wobbly. “I’m also sorry I can’t give you pat answers about things I’m not even sure about myself. It feels wrong to even admit I’m not sure about them.”

“What do you do, though? If someone comes to you and they’re struggling with their sexuality? What do you tell them?”

He exhales in a big rush. “I haven’t run across that particular problem yet.”

“But what if you do?” she presses. 

“I’ll figure it out when the time comes.”

“Ben, we’re talking about people’s lives. Are you as conflicted with other things, like abortion, or addiction, or premarital sex? You know, only the biggest issues in a lot of young people’s lives?”

His ears turn a flaming shade of red and he presses his lips together as he swallows hard. “I don’t...I don’t know...I…” His fists are balled up in his lap and he looks like he wants to punch a wall. 

“Ben?” Rey says. 

“Yes.”

“You said the other day that you went to a support group. What was that for?”

“It was an anger management thing. Court ordered.” 

“I thought so.”

He looks up at her. “How did you know?”

“I know what it’s like to have to bottle things up.”

His hands relax, slightly, and he flexes them a few times before speaking. “Snoke did so much for me,” he says. “He helped me get back in school, helped me find a place to live so I wouldn’t have to depend on my parents. And I feel so ungrateful when I doubt him, like I’m throwing all of it back in his face.”

“Maybe,” she says, leaning toward him, “you needed his guidance when you were so unsure of yourself, but now you don’t anymore. It’s okay to outgrow things.”

He doesn't answer her. He runs his hand through his hair, his jaw working as though he’s swallowing his words, or his emotions. “I’ve got a lot to think about.”

“Yeah,” she says. “So, school is going to be crazy right up to fall break, so maybe…”

He nods, but doesn’t stand up yet. “Yeah. You should focus on that.”

They look at each other, across a gulf neither of them is willing to cross. 

“You can still come to--”

“I think I should figure something else out.”

“Of course,” he nods. “But please, Rey, don’t go hungry just to ignore me. 

She nods and stands up, walking over to the door and standing there, arms crossed, hugging herself. He takes the hint and stands, then carefully pushes the chair back under Rose’s desk. When he gets to the door, he looks at her, then leans down to kiss her on the forehead. 

“See you around,” she says. It’s so stupid, and insipid, but it’s all she can manage. 

When he’s gone, she shuts the door, puts away the food, and burrows back into bed with all the lights off except the Christmas lights above her bed. She clings to the rabbit plushie that Finn won for her at the fair, junior year of high school. She was supposed to go with her boyfriend at the time, but he told her that he didn’t have any money, then showed up to school the next day with a new pair of Jordans. Finn and she scraped together some money, went on half price night, and managed to have a great time on twenty dollars and a lot of charm. 

She broke up with that boyfriend a few weeks later, and hasn’t seriously dated anyone since, though she’s been on a few dates. 

She hasn’t even been on a real date with Ben Solo, so why does she feel like she lost something tonight? It doesn’t feel like a breakup--that would be ridiculous--but rather that same ache she used to get when she went on walks at night and spotted families through open windows, watching TV or eating dinner together. A sadness for an almost, or a could have been. 

“You’ll be okay,” she tells herself. It’s a thing she’s been telling herself for a long time. She breathes in the familiar scent of her plushie and closes her eyes. It’s too early to sleep, but she does it anyway. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Yesterday was quite a day.
> 
> I can't promise an update next Monday because it's getting to crunch time on my RFFA fic but I'm going to try my damnedest. 
> 
> Thank you again for all the love!


	6. Chapter 6

Thanksgiving dinner is at Paige and Kaydel’s, though it’s officially a Friendsgiving situation. In addition to Rey and Rose, there’s an array of people coming in and out of the house all afternoon. Most are here because they can’t afford to go home for the holiday, and some, like Rey, don’t have a family to go to. Others do have a family, but their families don’t want them, or they would have to hide who they are in order to go home. It’s a bit of a madhouse, but the love in the air is palpable. The kitchen counters and dining room table are groaning under the weight of all the food, with more arriving with each guest.

After stuffing themselves, Rey and Rose sit out on the porch swing, bundled under one blanket as they drink hot cocoa spiked with peppermint Schnapps.

“I Skyped with my parents this morning,” Rose says.

“How’d that go?”

“I chickened out of telling them I’m staying with Finn most of winter break.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That I’m going to YouTube headquarters for meetings.” She finishes her cocoa and licks the whipped cream remnants from around the rim.

It’s technically true. Rose does have meetings at YouTube, but they’re scheduled the week before Christmas, and she had to get permission to take her finals early in order to make it work. Rose and Paige grew up in Hays, a small town a county over, but her father got a job offer in Pennsylvania Rose’s freshman year and they moved away. The Ticos are a close knit family, so Rose loves going to visit them during breaks, but Rey can tell that she’s chafing at the bit as graduation draws nearer.

“They think you’re gonna be in San Francisco for two weeks?” Rey asks.

Rose shrugs. “They’re clueless about the YouTube thing so yeah, they believe it.”

“I still don’t know why you can’t just tell them you’re spending time with Finn. They love him.”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of funny, though. They’re so old fashioned, but I’m pretty sure the only reason they didn’t freak out too much about Pay and Kay’s relationship is because they did everything in the right order. Finished school, got married, then moved in together and had a baby. If the three of us get that apartment next year, they’re going to flip out.”

Rey puts her arm around Rose. “Maybe you’re underestimating them?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Rose says. She stands up, taking the blanket with her. She wraps it around herself like a cape, her mug hooked precariously on her finger. “I’m getting another one of these. You want one?”

“I’m good. But you could bring me some of those sausage ball things.”

“You got it!” she tries making finger guns at Rey but almost drops the mug and the blanket.

Rey checks her phone and frowns. There’s a text from an unknown number. Except it’s not unknown. She deleted the contact, but she recognizes who it is.

 

**Happy Thanksgiving! If you celebrate, that is.**

 

She’s still staring at it when Rose comes back. She hands Rey a plate piled with sausage balls and mini quiches, and another hot chocolate that, judging by the smell, is at least twice as strong as the one she just finished.

“Rose, I--”

‘Shhhhhh,” Rose says. “Break is almost over and you’ve barely had any fun all week.”

She has a point. Rey is drowning in school work and has hardly left her room since last Friday. She takes the mug. The first sip is so strong it makes her mouth go numb.

‘Is there vodka in this?” she splutters.

“Spiced rum,” Rose smiles. “And some crushed up candy canes. They’re out of Schnapps.”

“Good God, woman,” Rey says. She sets the mug on the porch railing. “So, guess who texted me just now?”

“Pastor Ben?”

“That’s really your first guess?”

Rose holds up a finger. “You saw Finn this morning at breakfast.” She counts off on her other fingers as she continues. ‘Me and Pay and Kay are all here, so who else? Besides he sounds like the Thanksgiving greeting type.”

“We haven’t said a word to each other in over two weeks, and we basically said we weren’t going to be friends anymore.”

“Did you, though?”

“That’s what I thought we did,” Rey says.

“I don’t know, but you’d better at least say ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ back.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s polite, dummy.”

“Okay, okay, if it’ll get you off my back.”

Rose goes back to her drink and Rey answers, after spending far too long thinking about what to say.

 

happy tgiving yourself!

how did you spend it?

**Community dinner, volunteering.**

 

Of course that would be how he spent it. She doesn’t know what to answer so she leaves it and goes inside to find the blanket, since Rose seems to have lost it inside while she was throwing things in a mug. When she comes back out, Rose says she needs to pee and runs inside. Rey figures out why when she picks up her phone.

 

what r u doing right now?

 

“Shit! Rose, come back here!”

She should know better than to leave her phone unattended around Rose. She probably figured out the passcode in two tries. That rum and hot cocoa concoction is looking better and better.

Well, maybe Ben won’t answer.

The phone buzzes.

 

**Nothing, really. You?**

at p and k’s for friendsgiving

probably for a while since rose has had a few and she’s my ride

**I can come get you if you want to go home now.**

 

 

Oh, hell. He probably thought she was hinting that she needs a ride. “I’m going to murder Rose,” she mutters as she types her answer.

 

thanks but i’m ok

i can always crash here if i need to

 

**Okay. Let me know if you change your midn**

***mind**

 

Rey shoves her phone in her pocket and goes inside to find Rose. The party is winding down, with some people saying goodbyes as they zip sleepy children into their jackets, and others scattered around the living room getting ready to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. She finds Rose fast asleep in the den. How she fell asleep so quickly, Rey has no idea, but she sighs and tucks a blanket around her.

By the time she’s finished helping her hosts clean up the kitchen, all the people who are fit to drive have left and Rose is still asleep. Rey considers her options for getting home.

If she crashes here, she won’t get any schoolwork done tonight, and there’s a  lot she needs to finish before Monday.

The walk to her dorm isn’t terrible, but the temperature has dropped about twenty degrees since they arrived, and a wet wind has picked up.

She could take Rose’s car and come back to get her later, but Rey’s been drinking. It was only one, and it’s been more than an hour, but she’s underage and doesn’t want to take the risk.

Uber is out because she’s broke and the buses aren’t running today.

“Fuck it,” she says, pulling out her phone.

* * *

 

Ben pulls up fifteen minutes later in a black Escape. Rey’s face burns when he gets out to open the door for her, and she thanks her lucky stars that Paige is upstairs with the baby and Kaydel is napping, so they won’t see him pick her up like he’s her date.

“Thank you,” she mutters as she ducks into the car.

It smells new inside, and is sparkling clean, like it’s been recently detailed. She notices that the seat warmer has already been turned on.

“Are you heading straight home or do you need to stop somewhere?” he asks.

“Home. I’m behind on schoolwork. They warned us to get as much done before the break as possible, but I didn’t listen.”

“If you’ve got half an hour or so, they finished putting up all the light displays at the church yesterday. I can show it to you and you won’t have to deal with a crowd.”

Rey has heard about the First Order Lights. All the church committees and groups have displays, as well as a ton of other local churches and faith-based charities. Santa and the reindeer and the like aren’t allowed, but there are plenty of stars and angels and Christmas trees, at least from what she’s heard. The prospect of seeing it when it’s deserted is appealing. Way more appealing than the pile of work on her bed.

“Why not?” she says.

He looks over and smiles as he pulls away from the curb. “That’s the spirit.”

They talk about their favorite holiday foods on the drive, and she tells him about her plan for her final project in printmaking. It feels almost normal, though it also feels like they’re starting at square one, with small talk and no heavy subjects. She sneaks glances at him while he’s focused on the road.

His hair has been trimmed since the last time she saw him, but he’s got a bit of stubble on his chin and upper lip. His well worn plaid shirt works on him, and it’s even untucked. She catches herself wishing this was a date.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“What?”

“You just sighed.”

“Just trying to get my mind off school,” she lies. More like she was trying to get her mind off his forearms and the way his sleeves are rolled up just so.

“I almost messaged you a couple of times, before tonight.”

“Oh? What about?”

“Stupid stuff mostly, like there was a new baby at church and he was so ugly. And you could tell that everyone knew he was ugly but couldn’t say anything, but they also couldn’t outright lie, so there was a whole lot of ‘Oh, isn’t he just something!’ and ‘Look at all that hair.’” His perfect mimicry of old southern ladies makes Rey laugh.

“You think the parents knew?”

“I don’t know how they couldn’t. He looked like a troll doll.”

“Well,” Rey says, “I don’t think I would have minded you texting me something like that, as long as there were pictures.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He stops for gas, and when he comes back outside after paying he’s holding two cups of hot cocoa.

“Holy--this is pretty good for gas station cocoa,” Rey says after the first sip.

“The secret is to fill it about two-thirds full of cocoa and then fill the rest with half and half from the cream and milk dispenser.”

“I can’t believe I never thought of that.”

“Sometimes I’m clever,” he says.

Rey has only ever seen First Order from the Interstate, so when they take the exit and approach it she’s impressed with how much bigger it looks up close.

“Those outer parking lots are like half a mile away,” she says as they pull in.

“When it’s busy we use trams, like at amusement parks. I’ve been on tram duty more than once.”

He hangs his staff placard on the mirror before getting out, and Rey almost falls out of the car in her haste to get out before he can open her door. She follows him across the lawn, between two massive buildings. Ben tells her that the one with the steeple is the secondary sanctuary, the one with the dome is the main one.

The church campus is similar to a college one, with buildings arranged around a green space. Ben calls it a courtyard, but it’s the size of a city park, with tree lined paths and benches dotted along them.

“Stand here,” he says, leading her to the center of the park, where dozens of ropes of light are strung from a thirty foot pole, anchored to the ground in a huge circle. He unlocks the door to the main sanctuary and goes in. Half a minute later, the whole park begins lighting up, a section at a time, and she finds herself in the center of a Christmas tree made of light. She looks up to the peak, where the strands all meet. If the ground wasn’t damp and cold she would be perfectly content to lie down and gaze up for awhile.

“It’s kind of like a Maypole,” she says when he joins her.

“Come on,” he says. “It’s all laid out in a big circle around this.”

When they step out, Rey is dazzled. Every tree is dripping with dozens of strands of white light and the sidewalks are lined with swags of light suspended between silver poles topped with stars. The displays range from simple groups of Christmas trees, to animated carolers made of wire and light. There is every kind of nativity imaginable. At one point, they walk through a tunnel made of chasing lights, blinking in time to “Angels We Have Heard on High.”

They’re all lovely, but she stops short in front of one display. It depicts Gabriel visiting Mary to tell her she’ll carry the son of God, but the angel isn’t the kind of rosy cheeked, androgynous blonde being that sits atop Christmas trees.  He’s a giant sphere made of rings, and all the rings have eyes, and the whole thing is lit up and spinning in front of a cowering Mary.

“Wow, I’m really feeling the Christmas spirit with this one,” she says. It’s stunning, in its way, and the artist in her admires it, but she can’t imagine what a child would think of it.

“That one’s from Empire Baptist. First Order was started by people who split from them in the 1920s. If you think this church is conservative...this is over the top even for them, though. I think they just did a nativity last year.”

The final display is an animatronic nativity, set to “The Little Drummer Boy.” The animatronics aren’t the best, more Chuck E Cheese than Disneyland, but the song itself gets Rey choked up.

“Are you okay?” Ben asks.

“It’s just that part in the song, when he says he’ll play his best. It gets me every time.”

He smiles at her, a gentle upturn of the corner of his lips. “I can see why that would move you.”

Hardly anyone ever understands, especially since she isn’t religious. “Thank you. THat makes me feel less silly about it.”

“It’s not silly at all. Come on.” He holds out his hand, and Rey hesitates.

“Ben, this has been so nice, but all that stuff we talked about before, in my room…”

His smile is wide and dimply. “I was waiting for you to bring it up. I think I’ve figured it out. I believe what I believe, or what I feel is right, and I’ve been studying scripture and other people’s interpretations, and I think it backs up how I feel. I don’t know how some people will take it, because some of my sources were written by rabbis, but I think I can make a difference in how people think, even if it’s a small one.”

“By staying here, even if you don’t agree with them?”

“After what you said, I couldn’t imagine leaving anyone vulnerable to someone who might make them feel worse about their lives.”

Rey’s not sure how much he can really do here, but it’s enough that he believes he can change things, and that he wants to. She holds out her hand and he takes it, pulling her toward the small chapel at the end of the park.

First Order, much like the university, has expanded extensively over the years with little attempt made at continuity in architecture. This building stands out more than any other, however. It’s the kind of church house you see in paintings and postcards, a shoebox with a peaked roof, stained glass windows, and a small steepled bell tower.

“This was the church’s first permanent building,” he explains as he unlocks the double doors and ushers her into a small foyer.  “They met in a big tent for about ten years while they were raising money for a building. The current main sanctuary holds about seven thousand. This one holds around a hundred. It’s mainly used for small weddings and funerals now, but the senior ladies group always puts up the original nativity from the 30s.”

Inside, it’s easy to forget they’re in the middle of a sprawling compound. It’s quieter here, and very still, and a bit other-wordly with the moon spilling in through the stained glass. It smells like an old country church, stirring up long forgotten memories. Ben doesn’t turn the overhead lights on, but goes to the front and turns the spotlights on the nativity scene.

The figures are near lifesized and very old, made of plaster rather than plastic, the paint cracked in places and obviously touched up in others. Mary’s face is lovingly rendered and perfectly serene as she gazes at the manger. It’s full of real hay, but there’s no baby.

“They put him in on Christmas Eve. They do a children’s service here early in the evening.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Ben sits in a front pew, watching her as she examines the jewels on the Magi’s crowns and the detail on their robes. She circles around the room, looking at the old stained glass. If Rey remembers correctly, the windows depict the stations of the cross. The original congregants must have spent most of their building budget to put them in.

When she’s seen them all, she sits next to Ben on the pew, closes her eyes and breathes it all in. There is an almost hypnotic calm here that she wishes she could find more often, that she’s never found during an actual church service.

She opens her eyes and finds him staring at her.

“What?” she asks.

“I think I want to kiss you.”

Rey gasps, the tiniest intake of breath. She’s certain this isn’t why he brought her here, but it’s happening, and she’s strangely fine with it.

She lifts her chin. “Then do it,” she says, half hoping he won’t.

“Rey, I--”

“Don’t. Don’t say anything.”

She doesn’t want it ruined with explanations. She wants to pretend that everything is okay and that this isn’t impossible.

He puts his hands on her face and pulls her toward him, and when his lips meet hers, a flip is switched. She’s been so careful the last two years, to not do anything to jeopardize her studies. No drinking except during breaks. No partying. Mostly avoiding anything that even looks like romance. But Ben’s mouth is so soft and tastes of chocolate, and his body is so warm and firm against hers. She opens up to him, letting him nip at her bottom lip, at her chin and her neck. She’s barely allowed herself to admit that she wants this, and now she’ll gladly take it all.

She lays her hand flat on his belly. It’s tight, and flat, and she wants to know if it looks as nice as it feels but she’s distracted by his mouth on her neck again, right below her ear.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, and before she can think, she’s shrugging out of her coat and climbing into his lap. She expects him to stop her when she straddles him, but he only pulls her closer, his hands weaving into her hair then roving down her shoulders, across her back, landing on her waist.

He’s already rock hard underneath her, and he groans as she grinds into him instinctively. She takes his bottom lip between her teeth and sucks.

He breaks away and looks at her, and surely he’ll put a stop to whatever this is, but instead he pulls her shirt over her head and tugs down her tank top at the neck to expose her breast. His hand on her is warm and clumsy, but he seems more out of practice than inexperienced. He did have an entire heathen life before devoting himself to God, after all.

Speaking of God, when he takes her nipple into his mouth, she’s certain for the first time in years that there is a god and she’s a woman.

He kisses his way back up her neck and stops, one hand cradling the back of her neck as he looks at her. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first time I saw you, before i even knew your name.”

Elation buzzes through her at hearing something like that for the first time, but it’s cut through with dismay. Turns out it’s actually terrifying to have someone like you back. She does like him, and wants him so much, but she can’t ever really have him, not fully. Not as long as he’s tied to this place they’re currently defiling, no matter how much he thinks he can change things.

They should stop. She should stop, but she doesn’t want to. She wants to show him exactly who she is, and maybe he’ll come to his senses because it’s not likely she’s going to.

She slides off his lap and settles between his legs on the floor, her coat cushioning her knees. He nods as she looks up at him and takes ahold of his belt buckle. She undoes his belt and pants, and takes a deep breath as she helps him tug his underwear down his hips.

There’s no word to describe his dick other than enormous. She felt it when she was sitting on him, but seeing it is a totally different experience. She had a friend in high school who joked that her boyfriend had a dick the size of a baby’s arm, but the girl was prone to exaggeration, and Rey has never seen anything like that in person, until now.

“Remember how I said I’ve never felt anything profound in a church?” she says. “That just changed.”

“Rey…” he whispers.

“Do you want me to be quiet?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

“Why do you want me to be quiet?”

He squirms so she asks him again.

“So...so you can suck it,” he answers, so fast and low she barely catches it.

“How long has it been?”

“Five years.”

The last time he had a blowjob was around the time she gave her first one.

“Tell me, then.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me,” she says as she runs a fingernail up the underside of his dick, “ to shut the fuck up and suck your dick.”

“Why would I do that?” he asks.

She shrugs and wraps her hand around him. “That’s fine. Remember when I told you I lost  my virginity at church camp? I lied.”

“You already told me that.”

“But I wasn’t lying just about the church camp part.”

“No?” he says, his voice shaking.

“No one’s ever been inside me.”

He tries to speak but it comes out as more of a whimper.

“I know it’s weird, looking at me and how I was raised, but it’s true. I’m just as pure as all the girls at your work who wear purity rings. But you know what else I have in common with those girls?”

He swallows. “What?”

“We’re all really great at sucking cock.”

She works her hand up and down slowly and he leans his head back, sighing. “Rey, please.”

“Please what?” she says, her mouth hovering millimeters from the head of his dick so that her breath ghosts across his skin.

“Shut the fuck up and suck my dick.”

“Gladly,” she says, and takes him in her mouth. It’s only the tip, at first, but the way he reacts she may as well have deepthroated him.  As she circles the head with her tongue, he moans and his hand tightens on her shoulder.

She takes in more of him, as much as she can without choking, then comes up , licks her right hand and strokes the rest of him while she sucks.

He puts his hand in her hair, but never pulls too hard, only grips it in his hands, fingers tangled in it. He doesn’t push down or thrust too deeply, though his hips are moving in sync with her as she bobs up and down.

She takes a break from sucking to kiss and lick all the way up and then down, paying a good amount of attention to the head. He especially seems to love when she licks the underside, right below the head. He stutters her name and she looks up at him.

“Are you close?”

‘God, yes. Please.”

She licks the length of him again and ducks down, taking him in her mouth again. A few strokes later he says her name again as he tenses, so she takes her mouth off of him and jerks him off as she comes.

It splashes all over her chest, but she’s focused on his face, his eyes closed tight as he throws his head back, licking his lips. She sits back and looks down at the cum on her chest and hand, shimmering in the dim light. His breathing slows, and when he’s mostly recovered, he stands and begins straightening his clothes.

“The bathroom’s through the door back there, then to the left,” he says. “I should get you home.”

In the bathroom, she cleans herself up with stiff brown paper towels and looks at herself in the  mirror. It’s the same face that’s stared back at her so many times. Her lips are swollen and red and her hair is a mess, and there’s a slight emptiness to her eyes. She rinses her mouth out and goes back into the sanctuary. He’s turned the nativity lights off and is waiting for her at the door.

He drives her home in silence. She can still smell his semen on her, sharp and earthy at the same time, and she’s praying that Rose hasn’t made it home, because she’ll surely be able to smell that, and there’s no way to explain to he what happened. She rolls down the window, letting in cold, wet air.

Ben pulls over a block from her dorm. She leans over to kiss him on the cheek but he dodges it, saying that someone might see.

“I thought that was why you stopped here.”

“I don’t want to risk it.” He looks at her and softens. “I’ll watch until you’re safely inside.”

“Okay. Well. Good night.”

He nods vaguely and she gets out.

“Good night, Rey.”

“See you.”

He nods and she shuts the door. She looks back a couple of times on her way to the dorm, but he doesn’t acknowledge her. This is what she wanted, wasn't it? To push him away?

She’s back in her room, showered, in her pajamas and ready to start on her homework when her phone lights up.

 

**If you’re still awake, would you like to come over? I’ll send an Uber.**

 

She squeezes her thighs together at the sudden spike of desire that shoots through her. Now she does wish Rose was here, so she could talk her out of this. Though knowing Rose, she might encourage her.

What she should do is turn off the phone, masturbate, and go to bed. He’ll assume she’s asleep. He might not ever bring it up again.

She holds the power button down, but when it asks if she’d really like to power off, she chooses “cancel.”

This is bad. It’s so bad. There’s no way this can end well.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck” she screams into her pillow. She picks up her phone and does what she knew she would do from the moment she got the text.

 

ok.

 

She hits send.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a day early on an update? Wow? 
> 
> So last week I said it was crunch time for RFFA and this week it definitely is but I'm going to try my best not to leave you all hanging on this. 
> 
> Also, I had to laugh at every comment last week begging for them to kiss already because I knew what was coming.


	7. Chapter 7

The text message says that her driver, Nancy, will arrive in five minutes in a black Mercedes S-550. It would have been nice if Ben had waited to order it until she said she was ready, but he’s apparently that eager to get her to his house. With no time to change out of her pajamas, she throws a change of clothes, her toothbrush, and makeup bag in her backpack then puts on her shoes and coat on the way out the door.  It’s not a big deal. If what she thinks is going to happen actually happens she won’t be dressed for very long, and it’s not like she needs to pull out the big guns to seduce him. He’s already seduced. 

She’s almost out the door when she stops, turns around and goes to Rose’s bedside table. Unless he stopped for them on the way home it’s doubtful that Ben has any condoms, and that seems more unlikely than him already having some at home.  Luckily, Rose is fully stocked, so she takes a strip and puts them in her backpack, then adds an IOU to the note she left on Rose’s bed. 

The car is pulling up as Rey is leaving the building. Nancy is in her forties and dressed like she works in an office. The car is immaculate inside and out, with real leather seats. There are mints and bottled water in the center console, and three different types of phone chargers. 

“Where are you headed this late on Thanksgiving?” Nancy asks. 

“Oh,” Rey says. She should have anticipated this question, and she’s not sure why it matters to her what this stranger knows, but she lies and says she’s going to a friend’s to study. 

“Generous friend,” Nancy says. 

Rey is confused for a moment before she realizes that Ben had chosen one of the more expensive options when he booked her ride. Is Rey supposed to be flattered by that, as Nancy seems to be implying? Would she have been insulted if he hadn’t done it? Would it have registered?  Rey almost always uses the pool option.

“I’m sure he figured it was safer,” Rey says. 

“Could be, but it’s still nice of him.”

Rey takes her word for it, and Nancy leaves her to her thoughts. 

As the car leaves the area surrounding the university, Rey has the sudden, horrifying thought that she has completely misread this situation. What if she shows up in her pajamas, with her bag packed, and it’s actually some kind of intervention, with a bunch of church ladies and the pastor himself there? What if it’s not even his house she’s going to? She looks at the map on Nancy’s phone, but it’s not like Ben ever told her his address, only the general area he lives in. 

Another embarrassing thought: what if he did have sex in mind when texted her, but changes his mind when she shows up looking like a kid going to a slumber party? Her pajama bottoms have Sponge Bob on them for fuck’s sake. 

For that matter, what is she doing going over there in the first place? He was an absolute prick to her after she sucked him off.  Though her goal had been to scare him off, it still stung that it seemed to have worked. 

But now it seems it didn’t work, so what the hell is she doing, running to him as soon as he crooked his finger?

By the time the car stops in front of his building, Rey has worked herself up into a near panic attack. She takes a few deep breaths and gathers her things. Nancy looks back and smiles. 

“Good night! Hope you learn a lot,” she says with a wink.

“Thanks,” Rey mumbles and gets out. 

She was so caught up in her worries that she hadn’t paid attention to where they were going. The street is wide and quiet, with rows of stately old houses on one side and a park on the other. 

His building is brick, two stories high. It’s also old, but well kept, with a neat lawn and trimmed box hedges against the wall. A wrought iron Art Nouveau door leads to a foyer with four brass mailboxes on the wall. “Solo” is written in bold black letters on the one for 2A, so it’s definitely his house. She rings the buzzer beside the mailbox, and a few seconds later, without a word from Ben over the intercom, the interior door clicks open. 

The marble stairs are worn down in their centers from years of passage but the stairs and the dark wood banister are gleaming. A short hall with two doors is at the top of the landing. She stands in front of 2A, imagining him on the other side, waiting, having heard her footsteps on the stairs. She wills herself to turn around and leave. A long walk home would remedy whatever this is she’s feeling. 

He opens the door before she can knock. 

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” He opens the door wider and she ducks in under his arm. 

The apartment is more stylish than she imagined, based on his wardrobe. She wonders if it came furnished or if someone had helped with it. She never would have expected Mr. Dockers and Sneakers to own two Barcelona chairs and a Danish modern sofa. 

“This is nice,” she says.

“Thank you,” he says. He takes her coat and backpack to hang by the door, and his eyes flick to her chest, to her nipples poking through her paper thin shirt. 

She stares back, taking in his white t shirt and dark sweatpants. He’s also freshly showered, and barefoot, and that detail makes everything feel more intimate than when she had his dick in her mouth. She slips out of her shoes and puts them on the tray by the door, choosing to ignore how small they look next to his. 

“Would you like something to drink?” he asks. 

She almost asks for a shot of whiskey for her nerves, but doesn’t think he’ll appreciate the joke. “Water’s fine,” she says instead. 

The only lights in the room are the one above the range and a single lamp next to the large living room window. It faces north, the age-rippled glass offering a wavering view of the park.  A good room to paint in and, judging by the easel and drop cloth tucked into the corner, he thinks so as well. 

He fills her glass from a filter pitcher in the fridge and when he brings it to her, his hand lingers on hers before he lets go. If it wouldn’t be totally cliche, she would put the sweaty glass to her forehead to cool it down. She takes a long drink, not sure where to look, and he steps into her space, tipping her chin up to look at him. 

“Is this what you want? Being here, with me?”

She nods, reaching back to put the glass down on a table as he puts his hands on her face and kisses her. 

It’s so different from their first kiss in the chapel. So different that she could be kissing a completely different man. Or maybe she’s different here, not depraved and bent on destruction. 

“Wait,” she says, putting her hands on his chest and looking him in the eye for the first time since she arrived. “Are you being honest with me? Like, this isn’t something you do, right? Pretending to be all devout so girls let their guard down and sleep with you?”

“I promise, it’s not,” he says. “The last girl I was with was five years ago, like I said. We were sort of dating, but she dumped me for good after I got saved. Said she didn’t know me anymore, called me a Jesus Freak and everything.”

“That’s harsh, but I bet you were insufferable at first.”

“Probably,” he laughs. His smile fades and he kisses her on the forehead. “We don’t have to anything if you don’t want to. I couldn’t stand knowing you were alone.”

“You could have brought me here to begin with, you know.”

“I’m sorry. I was ashamed of myself; I thought I’d taken advantage of you.”

“So, you figured you already messed up, so you might as well mess up all the way?” It’s so difficult to maintain her anger, with him stroking her arms with his fingertips, but whatever self respect she has depends on hashing this out. 

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t know if that means I should be with you or stay away. I erred on the side of you not being alone tonight.”

She reaches up, putting her arms around his neck and pressing her forehead against his. “This is probably the biggest mistake I’ve made in years, and that includes what happened earlier, but I want to be stupid tonight and deal with it in the morning.”

His arms are around her now and he pulls her closer, her chest pressing into his, their lips so close together. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” she says, and kisses him again. 

He takes her hand and leads her to the bedroom, with a quick detour for her backpack. His room is almost as large as the living room, but the only detail she focuses on is the king sized bed. It’s made up, which makes her smile, because she can’t remember the last time she actually made her bed, and she wonders if he usually does, or if he did it while he was waiting for her. 

He turns to her and she finally gets her hands under his shirt and helps him pull it off. He’s as beautiful as she imagined--built but not completely ripped, and incredibly broad. She runs her hands across his abs and over his chest and traces his collarbone with her finger. A scar runs from the middle of his right pectoral, up his chest and across his shoulder, ending at his neck. She’s never noticed it because he always wears collared shirts. 

“We can talk about that later,” he says, taking her hand and kissing her fingertips. 

He backs her up against the bed and she sits. She reaches for his waistband but he takes her hands away and kneels in front of her, then takes his glasses off and puts them on the side table. 

“I can still see up close,” he says with a lopsided smile. 

“Are you going to go down on me?”

“I was hoping to.”

It’s not something she’s ever fully enjoyed, though she gets why people do. The boys who tried it with her before either lapped at her lazily for a few seconds before asking for a blow job, or tried to imitate guys in porn, all frantic and ferocious. But Ben is a man, and not only seems eager to do it, but might actually be very good at it. It would be a shame if he wasn’t, with a mouth like that. So she unties her drawstring and lets him peel off her pajama bottoms along with her underwear. She takes off her shirt, and for a second it looks like he doesn’t know where to start, so he places a kiss on each breast, on her belly, and on the top of each thigh, his hair tickling her as it falls in her lap. 

“Lie back,” he urges, looking up at her. 

She does, and he takes her by the hips and moves her closer to the edge of the bed. She puts a pillow under her head so that she has a better view of what he’s doing. Her socks are still on, which seems kind of weird, but when he eases her legs open and starts kissing the inside of her thigh she forgets what socks are. He moves closer, putting her legs over his shoulders, and switches to the other thigh. He hasn’t gotten to her cunt yet and it’s already the most amazing thing she’s ever felt. Until he slides his thumb between her lips and finds her clit, rubbing it gently. She whimpers and he stops, looking up to ask if she’s okay.

“Yes,” she pants. “Keep going.”

Another whimper escapes when he replaces his finger with his tongue, circling her clit with it. He’s slow but purposeful and it’s driving her insane. She runs her hands through his hair, and when he changes to a flicking motion, her grip tightens, causing him to gasp. 

“Still alright?” 

“Yes.”

“Can I put my fingers inside you?”

All she can do is nod, because the whole time he’s been talking, he’s had his thumb on her clit again. Then, still excruciatingly slow, he slides a finger inside her. He moves it in and out a few times before adding a second finger and putting his mouth on her again. It’s almost too much, and she grips the duvet in her fists as she rolls her hips in time with his thrusts. 

Rey always thought that all the moaning people did--whether in movies or overheard through walls--was exaggerated, either to please a partner or an audience. She never imagined it was involuntary until the moment Ben wraps his lips around her clit and sucks. 

The sound she makes is mortifying, and becomes more so when he does something with his fingers inside her that triggers an orgasm so intense she’s afraid she’ll pass out, her entire body overcome so that her very fingertips feel electrified. As she’s coming down, he kisses her thighs again, and her belly. When she opens her eyes, he’s grinning at her like a kid who’s gotten to eat dessert before dinner. She sits up, moving back onto the bed, and as he joins her on the bed she pulls him into a kiss. There’s an odd pleasure in tasting herself on him. 

“I have condoms in my bag,” she says. 

He looks surprised and blushes, which is funny considering what they’ve just done. 

“Is that okay?” Rey asks. 

“Yeah, I feel stupid because I didn’t think about that when I invited you over.”

Rey raises her eyebrow and he’s quick to tell her that he would have gone out to get some if she didn’t have any. 

“They’re in my bag,” she says. “Front pocket.”

It’s his turn to raise his eyebrow when he pulls out the long strip. “This is ambitious.” He tosses the condoms onto the bed and joins her again, gently pushing her back and proceeding to kiss her from her neck down to her thighs. He pays a lot of attention to her breasts, licking and sucking them, at one point straddling her thighs and sitting back so he can watch as he fondles them. They completely disappear under his hands, and the look of fascination on his face, with his lips slightly parted, is unreal. 

His dick is straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, and she reaches out to touch it. 

“I want to touch you,” she whispers. 

“Where?” 

“Everywhere.” She sits up and puts her other hand on his chest as she continues to stroke him through his pants. “Lie down?” 

He complies, lying down and getting rid of the rest of his clothes, and she takes a moment to simply admire him with his hair everywhere, his lips red and slick. She reaches over and turns on the bedside lamp so she can really see him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. “I wish you could see yourself right now.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” 

Rey has never sucked on anyone’s nipple before, but from the sound Ben makes when she does, he enjoys it. A lot. His skin is incredibly soft. She loves the way he caresses her back and her ass as she works her way down his body, and when she comes back up to kiss him on the mouth, he puts his hand on her cunt again, the heel of his hand firm on her clit. As she grinds against it, she aches to have him inside her again, but not just his fingers. 

“I think I’m ready,” she says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She sits back on her heels and watches him as he opens a condom and rolls it on. She has no idea how his dick is going to fit but people have been doing this for millennia and the human race keeps going, so it must be possible. 

When he’s finished he pulls her close by the back of the neck and kisses her deeply, then rolls her onto her back, underneath him. He reaches down and positions himself and she takes a deep breath as he starts to push inside her. 

It feels nothing like she’d thought it would. Despite his size, it only hurts a little, and the way he stretches her feels odd but not at all bad.  He doesn’t go in all at once, and she looks down between them to watch it happen. It’s sort of surreal seeing him disappear. 

Then, he’s inside her fully, and they look at each other in astonishment. They had been half playful before, but now it feels almost solemn, that something so irreversible has happened between them. Rey knows that this doesn’t change her body or her worth in any way, but this moment does change the landscape of her life.  Whatever happens after tonight, no matter what she thinks of him in the future, he’ll always be her first. 

He kisses her, tenderly, and she moves the hair out of his face to look in his eyes. 

“I’m okay,” she says, to his unasked question. 

“If you’re ever not okay, tell me.”

When he starts to move, she can tell that he’s holding back by how focused he looks. She caresses his back and ass, marvelling at the way his muscles move under her hands. His forearm is like steel where it’s braced above her shoulder. 

“Oh my God,” she sighs, when he hooks a hand behind her knee and moves her leg up over his shoulder, going deeper than she thought possible. 

She tries to hold onto every detail, the brush of his chest against her nipples, the tickle of his hair falling on her face and his beautiful soft skin under her hands. And the sound; the sound of his gasping breath in her ear, of their skin slapping together, of him moving in and out of her.

Then he kisses her again and her mind goes blank. 

“I’m not going to last long,” he pants. “It’s been so long and you’re so...everything.”

She lowers her leg so she can plant both of her feet on the bed and move her hips against his. The sensation is different, better, and he must like it too, because he starts moving faster. Rey hadn’t thought she would come again, but she feels it building, and almost as soon as she’s aware, it takes her and she moans, burying her face in his neck and digging her fingernails into his arms. 

She’s still feeling aftershocks when he comes with a groan he tries and fails to stifle. 

After, she expects him to pull away like he did in the church, but he rolls off of her and takes the condom off, and once he’s tossed it, he pulls her against him, placing kisses on her head and cheeks and one soft kiss on her mouth. 

“Do you want some water?”

“Please.”

She admires him as he leaves and when he comes back. Even half soft, his dick is bigger than average and she’s pretty pleased with how she handled it. She downs half the glass of water in one go before pulling him back into the bed. 

“Thank you,” she says, once she’s tucked up beside him under the covers. 

“For what?”

“For making it nice for me, and caring whether I liked it or not.”

“Rey, look at me.”

She lifts her head. He looks concerned, and a little sad. 

“That’s honestly the bare minimum. You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I feel like I should,” she says. Then she tells him, while lying in his arms in the soft glow of the lamp and the afterglow of their lovemaking, about the boys she’d been with, and how even the ones that professed to care about her were always in it for their own pleasure, and when she refused to go all the way, they acted like she owed them as much as she would give. 

“I gave up after a while, and I decided to focus on school and then…”

“Along I came to mess it all up?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I’m supposed to be doing school work right now so probably, but I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“What do you want to think about?”

“I don’t know. You? What you were like as a kid back in the olden days?” 

His laugh rumbles in his chest. “The 90s were such dark times. We had these things we watched movies on called VCRs."

"I know what a VCR is, Ben."

"Right." He starts telling her about how in fifth grade he and his friends had snuck into _The Matrix_ , but he had his first full blown existential crisis in the middle of it and had to leave. He told his friends he had a stomachache. He caresses her hair while he talks, and though she tells herself she wants to stay awake, to listen, and to savor this, she drifts away on the sound of his voice. 


End file.
